


Freud Would Be Pleased

by CommonNonsense



Series: Tumblr-Inspired Ficlets [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 14:55:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3854878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommonNonsense/pseuds/CommonNonsense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John blurts out things like "amazing" and "fantastic" a lot. "Gorgeous" is a little less common.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freud Would Be Pleased

**Author's Note:**

> The original blogger deactivated, but you can still see the post here: http://commonlynonsensical.tumblr.com/post/94257927679/john-accidently-blurting-out-gorgeous-instead-of

Sherlock’s mind is whirling with the thrill of the case. He paces the locked room one end to the other, while Lestrade and his team look on. John is standing with military bearing, arms crossed, his eyes tracking every movement. The window–now open–lets in a stream of early evening light, casting golds and oranges on the grisly blood-stained scene. It’s almost beautiful, in a macabre way. He barely notices except to point out the clues. 

“Not right-handed, as you thought,” he says, gesturing about, and he rattles off his deductions as they come to his mind. The case is coming together–it’s been a grueling twelve hours, but it’s all worth it in the end, when the puzzle pieces start to slot themselves into place and the crime is solved. The suspect is not who they thought at the beginning. The fingerprints were all wrong.

“The criminal couldn’t have escaped through the window, the lock was stuck and had been for months if you looked at the dust, and the door was locked from the outside. You assumed that meant he covered his tracks but he was an architect, he knows his way around houses, and if he did not escape through normal means … ”

Sherlock crosses the room, keenly aware of everyone’s gazes. It’s his imagination, he knows it is, but he fancies John’s feels the most intense. He removes a framed poster of a rock band from the wall, runs his fingers along the exposed plaster, and pushes. For a moment, it resists, and then the panel swings open, revealing a cramped and dusty, but recently used, tunnel leading up through the wall.

“The house has no attic but that doesn’t mean he can’t reach the roof,” Sherlock says, triumphant.

Lestrade sighs in that way that means he’s agitated but impressed. Anderson sneers as he moves forward to inspect the tunnel.

“Gorgeous,” John murmurs. Sherlock’s head snaps up to look at him.

John’s expression is stricken; he quickly realized what he had said. An accident. He had meant to say his usual–brilliant, fantastic, amazing. Never gorgeous before. How often had he thought that before? Did he always think Sherlock was gorgeous? Had he ever thought other adjectives? Beautiful, handsome, attractive–

Sherlock’s face is burning. He wants to know now. He wants to grab John by the shoulders and demand to hear everything John has ever thought on the matter but never said.

He doesn’t do that. Instead, he turns his head in a futile attempt to hide the red in his cheeks. He can feel John watching him again.

“Well.” Sherlock clears his throat and wills the damn blush away. “Anyway, the murderer should be easy enough to track from here. Call me if you have anything truly interesting for me. I have other things to take care of.”


End file.
